Sherlock's Key
by xKittyRiku
Summary: Based on the BBC TV program, "Sherlock" with book references. Dr. John Watson is deployed to Afghanistan for the second time, leaving Sherlock to fend for himself, until he meets someone who can't fill the place of John, but can occupy it.
1. This is the blog of SHs new partner

**_Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ __Meeting Me._**

Unfortunately, after his swift recovery Dr. John Watson has been deployed back to Afghanistan, leaving Sherlock alone and breathing in his ignorance. Obviously, he was alone again in his flat, and Ms. Hudson called upon me to give Sherlock a little "female company". We all know Sherlock… "bats for the other side", so there's not a problem with two different sexes sharing, right? It's not as if we're dating.

So far, all Sherlock has been doing is lying on the couch in his dressing gown (again), and applying nicotine patches whilst pounding the poor material being out of the sofa. And why should he? "_Bored,_" he tells me. "_Bored, with no jobs to keep me company._" I told him he should go and look for cases, instead of waiting for the cases to come to him. The look I got was astounding.

That was a no, then. Ever since he got out of that ruddy gym with the swimming pool he's been acting distant, bless him. I think something went on in the changing rooms, but who knows? хѼѮ҂ѴѥҖ Ҧ seemed to like him, perhaps more than he should? He definitely took interest in SH.

And why am I telling this to the world on a website that internationally used? Easy! I currently do not have time to run my own website. Too much trouble. What with the 2 cleaning jobs and the supermarket work.

**_Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ __Meeting Sherlock Holmes._**

Honestly, meeting Sherlock was a blast. After John left, Sherlock was forced to do his own shopping after Molly realized how much of a mug she was being. I was his checkout girl, and, noticing his shopping must be for a man living on his own, (it was obvious, except for the mass of nicotine patches. What was that?) He looked at me with this odd look on his face and asked me if I'd help him carry his shopping to his taxi for a big tip.

"_You need money_," he told me, looking at me with those icy blue eyes, not waiting for a reply. He grabbed a single bag, leaving me with the heavier two, and left the supermarket with a slight grin on his face. I clung to the bags, quickly looking in the direction of the supermarket manager. He nodded in agreement, and I hurried after Sherlock with what I can only suggest was a look of admiration and confusion, mixed in with a hint of "_What-the-hell-was-that?_"

Since that day, I've learnt Sherlock is very, very impulsive. Like the fact that he pushed me into the taxi, jumped in next to me and said in a very deep British accent, "_221B Baker Street_."

And so the taxi drove off, taking me with it. When we arrived, Sherlock gave me the two bags I'd taken with me and took the other one, again for himself. He looked left and right and the black door of the building after paying the taxi driver his £15.60 fare, plus a small (very small) tip. After unlocking the door and stepping through, he snatched my forearm and pulled me into the house. "_Come and see the room._" Again, he didn't leave me time to reply. Things were getting repetitive, but they never tired of interesting. "_What room?_" I replied, wondering what this tall, dark-haired skinny man was talking about.

He took the shopping bags from me with ease, which made me wonder why he hadn't taken them from me in the first place. Sherlock led the way upstairs, and he intrigued me. I followed him up the two flights of stairs to a room that was brown in overall colour, with brown and musty green furniture. The room had a dusty feel to it, but an energy swirled around the room, telling me that the room was very lived in.

"_It's… interesting,_" I told the man, for at the time I didn't know who he was.

"_You like it?_" he asked me, a slight smile on his face.

"_Yes._"

"_You can move in on Monday._"

"_I…_" Did I want to move in? Yes I did. It was nice here, but I didn't even know the man's name. I said no. I left him with his shopping and returned to my job, wondering if I'd made the right choice.

The night before last, a good week after I'd first met the odd man, he visited the hotel I did most of the sixth and fifth floor cleaning. "_I found you._" I frowned at his voice, recognising it instantly.

"_How did you find me?_" I asked him, trembling. Trembling because this man had found me without knowing my name. Trembling, because this man seemed to send shivers down my spine, for a reason I wasn't yet sure of. As I stood up to meet his eyes, _which even then I couldn't do,_I took in his smell. I stepped backwards, recognising the stench of death. I remember wondering why he smelt of the dead, why he had cold fumes coming from him and why his hands were tinged red.

"_It wasn't hard to ask around,_" he replied, lightly. "_You've changed your mind._" Why does he say things without asking them as a question? Why is he so assured of himself?

I couldn't verbally answer him, because I knew these questions would come tumbling out like a waterfall. I nodded.

"_Well, Alice Crompton, the name's Sherlock Holmes. It's 221B Baker Street,"_he repeated, leaving my head reeling with not only the chemicals, but also the tantalizing trouble that lay visibly ahead of me, as Sherlock Holmes walked away.

* * *

><p>Taken from Alice's blog, http: the-partner-of-sh .tumblr .com/ Read.


	2. Sherlock's Bathroom

Found this brilliant Shimeji today when looking up Sherlock for the what may have been the third or fourth time. It's really cute, but when I told him this he looked at me with raised eyebrows, and asked me, "_Are you suggesting something?_"

To which I replied, "_Well obviously not, everyone knows what you are!_"

He retaliated by saying, "_What? Have you been talking to Sgt Donovan again?_"

"_What do you mean, again?_"

"_You can smell the horse on you from a mile off…_"

I'm not sure what I found most surprising, his obvious dislike for Sally or the fact that I hadn't in fact been near her… and he told me I smelt of horse. I'm honestly hoping he was joking, because I'd just come out of the shower.

Hey, thinking about it, here's the link for the Shimeji, that's just glaring at me right now. (**_Find it on the blog, web address on chapter 1)_**

(He has his back to me, he's in a mood.)

Follow the instructions to download, but you have to admit, he's so cute! such a little cutie. Not in real life, obviously, because that spot on his chin is doing absolutely nothing for him, and he refuses to cover it up. I wonder why? He usually does take a great interest in his appearance, and when he's not moping about the house he's applying pale foundation or something else like that.

(The Shimeji Sherlock is climbing the side of my computer screen!)

Yesterday I timed him in the bathroom. He took 57.202 minutes. I went in after him, just to have a look, and the toilet hadn't been used, but my make-up and remover pads were scattered around the sink, and my eyeliner was used down to the wood. I'm no Sherlock Holmes, but I think I can confirm our… homosexual Sherlock is using my eyeliner as _guy_liner.

(He's hanging upside down like a bat.)

This I want to see. I've bought security cameras off of eBay and i'm just waiting for them to arrive so I can install them in the bathroom. (Obviously not facing the toilet. Ew, too much for a girl to handle.)

He's sitting here reading this over my shoulder now, looking at the Shimeji with awe. "_Yes, I get it, but HOW does it work?_"

"_I'm not a computer person, Sherlock, I don't know._"

"_But HOW? Is it a software?_" Yes, no, I don't know. I told him this and he went away to his corner, walking straight passed his laptop…

"_Alice, laptop._" He's now sitting on the couch, smiling slightly. No, wait, I mean smirking. Smirking slightly.

"_Can't you get it? You walked right passed it. All you need to do is stretch a bit, it'll be good for you._"

Another look.

"_No, you know what it's like._" Sherlock turned his back on me, before repeating, "_Laptop, Alice._" Being the amazingly nice(!) person I am, I got up out of my _nice warm seat,_(because I'm sure Sherlock does read this when he's bored,) and handed him the laptop he acquired free for helping solve the HP/Toshiba robberies case, one of the last cases he solved before John left.

And that was it. He opened it and began typing without another word.

"_No thank-you?_" I scolded him, (not really scolding, he didn't pay attention,) trying to get him to look me in the eyes.

"_Uhm, no, I don't think so._"

"_Pompous idiot._"

"_What?_"

"_Nothing._"

Then I remembered something John had told me to pass onto Sherlock on his last phone-call. "_You know your boyfriend John Watson?_"

"_Doctor, Doctor John Watson. Yes, I know him, why?_"

"_He called the other day. He told me he'd thought of a joke about 'A Study in Pink'._"

"_Here we go._"

"'_They've made an alternative to A Study in Pink', he told me. 'It's called, A Study in Punk.'_" I burst out laughing, whilst Sherlock gazed on bemused.

"_What?_"

"_Nevermind. By the way, John's fine. He's looking forward to coming back to Baker Street in a few months for Christmas._"

"_Nice._"

And then Sherlock grabbed his coat, tied his blue scarf around his neck and left 221B Baker Street, the ghost of a smile trailing his face.


	3. Sherlock's Bedroom

I wish Sherlock would STOP looking over my shoulder when I'm writing. It's like he's possessed. _And_the way he sleeps is peculiar.

Alright, I get this title is a bit misleading- (_Okay, a lot)-_but I couldn't think of anything else. (_Sherlock's Sleeping Habits? Sherlock sleeping?)_I wanted to share with you guys the way in which Sherlock sleeps. It's creepy!

Imagine you sleep in a bed opposite his. Like, twin singles? (_I couldn't afford the room above, okay?_) You're trying to get to sleep, to the rather calming sound of Sherlock's snores… and then; they stop. They just stop, right there. Feeling curious, you turn over, and you see him sitting up in bed, crouched, rocking slightly forwards and back.

Well you can imagine how shocked I was. Wearily, and very taken-aback, I took the opportunity to go to the much-needed toilet, and then turn the light on on the way back in. He was still there, still rocking. Sighing, I turned the light off again, and climbed into bed.

It took me two hours of trying to sleep before realising I would never sleep if Sherlock stayed in the position he was. I crept over to his bed. Now was the tricky bit. I wasn't sure if this counted as sleep-walking, because he wasn't walking, and you're not supposed to wake sleep-walkers. But in order to get a decent night's sleep, I had to act. And I _realise_I was being selfish… but I _need_sleep. More than I need to eat. If I don't get 10 hours of sleep, I don't get an hour of work- not good for a 3-job-girl. So I leant over and pushed him down, making sure his head was on the pillow before I pulled his legs.

It took ten minutes of pulling before his legs moved. I crawled back into my warm bed, exhaling deeply. Just dropping off into the land of whatever I'm dreaming about, I hear a noise. Not a _noise,_a grunt. A Sherlock _grunt._Erh. I rolled over, and what I saw made my heart pound, my blood rush around my body and an unwelcome adrenaline rush enter my bloodstream. A tall, black figure stood over my bed, breathing heavily.

I scrambled backwards, grabbing the baseball bat I keep next to my bed- (_Childhood nightmare, another… unwelcome story._) and got ready to smash it against the intruders' curly-topped head.

Wait- _curly?_

I flicked on the light, half disappointed. But Sherlock's eyes were open, so I assumed he was awake.

"_Sherlock, are you okay?… Sherlock? Hello?_"

He was asleep.

I didn't bother moving him- I went to sleep in _his_bed.


End file.
